Losing Everything
by Estonia Lockhart
Summary: Rogue dies. Logan grieves. Then a staggering discovery is made.Chapter 9 is up!
1. Gone

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, and don't have anything to give you. _If_ I owned X:Men, I'd make Hugh Jackman sign a binding contract for eternity, gluing himself to me and becoming my personal... ah, nevermind.

A/N: I like this. A lot. It just hit me one day and then wouldn't leave me alone.

Feedback: You read, you feed! Ah, not really. I mostly post this for myself, but it's nice to hear your opinion- good or bad. Flamers will be scoffed at, and eventually deleted.

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"Logan!"  
  
Wolverine's breath came in short at Marie's scream. Claws already extended, he charged through the west wing of the facility, the walls turning into a blur at his speed, his mind focused on Marie's location. Another scream rang out through the building, and he knew he was close. The scent of fear and Marie's blood reached his nose, quickening his pace. Heart pounding in his ears, Wolverine raced into the room at the end of the hall, a fierce growl exploding from his mouth.  
  
Sabretooth's strong hands were clutched around Marie's neck, choking her to death. Her dark hair hung limply from her sweat-drenched head, and her chocolate brown eyes were now widened in absolute fear, and lack of oxygen.   
  
"Marie!" Wolverine cried, lunging at Sabretooth. "Put her down, you sonnofabitch!" Sinking his claws into Viktor's back gave way to a satisfying crack. A beastial whine came from Sabretooth, as he dropped Marie to the ground and turned, grabbing Wolverine by the throat, and threw him against the wall.   
  
"She's already dead," he hissed, a malignant expression on his face as he lifted Wolverine by his shoulders, and crushed him against the hard stone.   
  
Logan grimaced, lifting his arms against his enemy, and shoved his claws into the beast's chest. A cry of pain rang through the air as Viktor slumped to the ground, mopping the blood up with his furry paw. The room spun out of focus momentarily, but Logan shook his head, his eyes narrowing at Viktor. Raising his claws over Sabertooth's head, he prepared to slice them through his scalp when his acute hearing picked up a soft mumur in the room.  
  
"Logan..."  
  
Hazel brown eyes shifted over to Marie's crumpled form in the corner, blood spilling from her skull. Thoughts of Sabretooth vanished immediately as he raced to Marie's side, gathering her head into his arms. "Marie," he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face, keeping his tears back. She was so close to death, but he could save her again. Logan lifted his finger to her cheek, pressing it against the skin. Nothing happened. The shock hit him like a blow to his head.   
  
"Marie, I -" he touched her skin again, harder, panick filling him as still, nothing happened. Tugging off her gloves, Logan clasped his palm over her rapidly freezing flesh, concentrating hard, ignoring the fact that before, it hadn't been necessary.   
  
"Marie!" he cried, shaking her out of her trance. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, cold air blowing from her pale lips. "Your skin, i- it's not working," he stuttered, forcing back the sob making its way up his throat.   
  
Her dull brown eyes flickered down to where his hand was still pressed firmly on her arm. "It's gone," she whispered, the effort to speak becoming too much of a burden. "I c - can't."  
  
"No! No!" Logan buried his face into Marie's shoulder as her eyes closed again this time, and her ragged breathing finally ceased, her chest freezing in mid-breath. Her body went limp in his hands, and it only made Logan hold onto her tighter, screaming in the cove of her neck. "No, Marie! Come back! Oh, God! Don't leave me! No, no, baby, don't leave me! No!" Sobs choked him as he rocked back and forth with Marie's dead corpse in his arms, his tears falling into her hair.   
  
Running footsteps sounded behind him, but Logan ignored them, tangling his fingers throughout Marie's hair, calling her back to him, pleading. Jean, Scott, and Ororo stood in absolute shock, watching as the alien sounds of Logan's anguished weeping filled the room, cutting everyone in the heart. Jean and Ororo hung back, hands raised to their faces, and let their tears fall freely, weeping for the young girl they had become so fond of. Scott's chin trembled slightly as he edged closer to Logan, clasping his hand on the man's shoulder.  
  
"Logan, she's dead," he whispered hoarsely, not sure if Logan was altogether enlightened of the fact; he was staring down at her as if she might come back to life and smile at him any second. Wolverine brushed his hand off, ignoring him. Scott bowed his head, and knelt to the ground, gently drawing Logan from the cold cadaver. Logan let her slip out of his fingers, and he turned, sobbing into Scott's shoulder, clutching his stomach in absolute pain. Memories of Marie flashed into his mind, contrasting harshly with her blue corpse lying on the ground before him.   
  
Ororo crouched beside the two and wrapped her arms around them, choking back on sobs. Jean joined them, clasping her hands in Scott's, squeezing hard. The four X-Men were circled around Marie's dead body sprawled lifelessly on the ground, weeping together for the loss of the dear girl they had all come to cherish. Logan broke from them, and lay his head against Marie's stilled chest, letting his tears soak into her shirt. "I promised I'd protect you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice grating painfully against his throat, "And I failed."  
  
No one noticed Sabretooth, as he eased catlike into a standing position, and raced from the room, a greedy smile on his face.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A bright light forced Marie's eyes to shut again, making her turn her head toward the side. "God," she muttered, a painful ache throbbing in her temple. "Shut that damn thing off."  
  
There was a rough sound of feet shuffling across the room, and with a decisive click, the light disappeared. As she opened her eyes again, red splotches danced across her vision, blurring her surroundings momentarily. Blinking repeatedly, the image of a small, dim room with white walls met her eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest at the sight of a dumbwaiter positioned in the middle of the room, and the contents lying on it registered; a hypodermic needle, and many small bottles filled with clear liquid littered the table. Rogue swallowed hard and glanced down at her chest, now not surprised at the thick ropes cutting into her skin.  
  
"Hello, Rogue."  
  
Rogue's eyes snapped up at the throaty voice, and glared suddenly in hatred at Magneto standing calmly in front of her. It fell silent for a long while, neither of them speaking or moving, just gazing at each other in deep animosity. Erik broke the silence, "I bet you're wondering why you're sitting in that chair, bound by ropes, and not one X-men is in sight to save you."  
  
Choosing not to speak, Rogue only focused her cold eyes on his slightly amused smile, and imagined him crumpling to death under her touch.   
  
"Well then," he continued, as if she had replied in assent, "Let me fill you in on a few things."  
  
The screech of a metal chair being dragged across the floor made Rogue wince, and in that one move she quickly scanned the room for an exit or door. Wall surrounded her everywhere. An intense feeling of claustrophobia washed over her as the thought that maybe she wouldn't get out of this alive hit her..  
  
"You are dead," Magneto said thickly, leaning forward in his chair.  
  
Rogue snorted and, just about to tell him where he could go, was interrupted, "At least," he added, "That's what every X-Men now believes."  
  
"They would never believe anything unless you had my dead body thrown in front of their faces," Rogue had almost said 'Logan' instead of they, but had quickly caught herself.   
  
Magneto's eyes glittered and a slow, sour smirk spread across his features. "Ah, but that is exactly why they believe."  
  
Despite herself, Rogue felt her forehead crease in confusion, "What -?" she murmured, staring at him in disbelief.  
  
"Mystique, my dear." Waving his hand through the air, Magneto shrugged his shoulders in an exasperated gesture. "She took your form as soon as Sabertooth knocked you out during your fight," as he spoke the words, Rogue began to remember clearly everything that had happened. The X-Men had received a report that the Brotherhood was terrorizing a supposedly random facility because it was rumored they held some type of secret formula they wanted to get their hands on. The very last thing she remembered was challening that bastard Viktor to a fight after he'd snapped the neck of a scientist. She'd been alone, and at the time she'd known it was foolish to take him on by herself, but it had become her instinct to fight. Viktor had ended up stealing the long black pole she had grabbed from a machine, and smacked it against her head. Then, everything had gone black.  
  
Magneto had paused, as if knowing she was recollecting the recent events, and then continued on, "Mystique died, and the X-Men saw her, or shall I say your, death with their own eyes." A perverse smiled tugged at the corner of his mouth. "In fact, Viktor told me Wolverine put up quite a show crying over your dead body. I never knew that beast was capable of emotion. Wish I could have seen it."  
  
Rogue's eyes flamed in rage and she shot forward in her chair, pushing as far as her bindings would allow. "You lie, you crazy sonnofabitch!" It couldn't be true. If it was true, the X-Men would never even think to look for her, and save her from.. wherever the hell this place was. And, Logan.. Logan. Marie choked back a sob at the thought of Logan thinking she was dead, of him mourning over her..  
  
Magneto raised his eyebrow, "Of course, I have no absolute proof to show you that I'm telling you the truth. But, maybe in a year or two, when you're still stuck down here, you'll finally realize that, to the outside world, you are dead." He spoke the last three words slowly, rolling his tongue over them.   
  
Her eyes widening in shock, Rogue stared hard at him and uttered darkly, "What exactly do you plan to do with me?"  
  
A malicious glint formed in Erik's eyes as his mouth curled into a smile. "Oh, that's the best part." Gesturing toward the needles and bottles on the dumbwaiter as if in explanation, he said, "Rogue, believe it or not, your mutation is a useful one." Rogue spit at him. Erik frowned, wiping the saliva from his cheek and rubbing the hand on his black stuff shirt. Nevertheless, he continued, "Since you won't work for me willingly, and I can't bring you out into the open without the nosy X-Men getting a whiff of it, I'm going to run a few experiments on you," as he spoke, he lifted the syringe from the tabletop and stroked it with his index finger. "- just to see if I can somehow transfer your power to me. And, in order for me to do anything of that nature, I am going to need your full and complete cooperation."  
  
A scream rose up in her throat as Magneto stuck the end of needle into a bottle full of liquid, and drew it out slowly. "Now," he said, rising to his feet and standing inches from her, "we shall begin."  
  
Rogue writhed as he stuck the syringe into her arm, pushing the liquid into her bloodstream. She knew it was a tranquilizer; it had to be. Her suspicions were confirmed as the room blurred slightly, and keeping her eyes open became too hard to concern herself with. Rogue's head flopped to one side as she fell into a deep stupor. 


	2. Coping

x-x-x- Three Months Later x-x-x  
  
Jean shut her eyes tightly at the familiar sound of hard boots smacking the wooden floors of the mansion. Her hands froze midair as the heavy snarling filled the air, followed by the breaking of glass. Taking a deep shuddery breath, Jean decided it was time someone help him. Marie had been dead for three months, and Logan was still going out on his midnight excursions. None of the X-Men knew what he did when he left, but often Logan would come back with torn clothes, and dried blood on his fists. Scott hadn't felt it was his place to speak to Logan about anything, Ororo had felt the same. Xavier, having tried to speak to Logan and only succeeding in getting his walls broken, had avised they let him grieve in his own way. But, Jean had had enough.   
  
There was no talking to Logan anymore. He'd left as soon as Marie had died, driving north and as far away from New York as he could. Then, just a few days ago, he'd come back. No one really knew why he returned, but ever since then, he'd been the cause of the recent tension thickening throughout the school. Jean hoped that maybe she could get through to him. After all, Logan had formed an attatchment to her.  
  
Rising from her chair, Jean marched into the hallway, trying to ignore her fluttering heart. Stopping midway, she held in a gasp at the sight of Logan ravaging one of the closets of the masion. She knew for a fact he was aware of her presence, but he didn't even look up.  
  
"Logan.." Jean shifted her weight to her other foot as the man continued his task, blatantly ignoring her. "Logan!" she shouted, her voice clearly rising over the noise he was making.  
  
Suddenly, Logan stopped and raised his head, snarling at her. His hazel brown eyes were fierce and narrowed, and Jean took a large step back as she realized his claws were extended. "Logan," she said almost whispered, the volume in her voice dropping considerably, "What are you doing?"  
  
Reaching inside the closet, he stuffed an indiscernable object into his pocket and glared at her, slamming the closet door shut. "Going out," he growled, brushing past her.   
  
"Logan, it's not your fault!" The desperation rose in her voice as she realized he would never just stop and listen to her. She had to throw the words at him.  
  
Logan spun around, his eyebrows drawn together darkly. "I should have been with her!" His tone was low and deep, and pained. Eyes flashing considerably as the words spilled out of his mouth, "I promised to protect her! I let her die!"  
  
"Rogue wouldn't want you to blame yourself. She-" Jean bit her lip, swallowing hard, "she loved you," she said softly.   
  
Logan's face fell, causing him to turn his head quickly to the side. Avoiding Jean's gaze, his voice filled with an insurmountable emotion, "She trusted me," he uttered, flexing his hands, "And I let her die." With that, he pivoted on the heel of his boot and shot out of the mansion faster than she had ever seen anyone move.

* * *

Where the fuck was he? His eyes.. they felt so heavy and worn, he couldn't even see where the hell he was going. Bright neon red light shocked his pupils, causing him to growl in fury. Who had put _those _there? Sick laughter made its way into his eardrums. Those damn whores.. always laughing at someone. Leaning heavily against the stone wall of the alley, Logan pressed his forehead against the cold rock, trying to regain his focus. Then again.. maybe he should just give in to it.   
  
Rubbing his hands over the callused knuckles, Logan squeezed his eyes shut as the claws shot through the flesh with a quick convulsion. Raising the sharp edge to his face, Logan tore at the skin in his cheek, heart pumping loudly in his chest as blood spilled from the wound. The excrutiating pain caused him to shudder, but only drove him to slowly lower the metal and aim toward the left corner of his chest. Claws dug at his skin, tearing the tissue inside, driving dangerously close to his heart, but he stopped mere milimeters before it. Loud roaring filled his ears, shutting out every other thought and earthly activity. Soon, he only became aware of the slow, languid beat of his heart, fighting to stay alive, and Logan fighting to die. The blades were still fully submerged into his body, but already the tissue around them began to heal slowly, sustaining his agonous breath. Tears sprang to Logan's eyes, his chest heaving spasmodically, a chill suddenly cooling his burning flesh, and his other hand hanging helplessly at his side.   
  
_This is what it must have been like for her_, he thought morosely, slowly, reluctantly drawing his claws from his soaked chest. His body failed to support him, causing him to crumble to the ground, only enough strength to let his blood-stained claws retreat back into the flesh. Involuntarily, his eyes wandered to the dark sky above him, as if Marie, dressed in a billowing white robe, would descend and clasp his stained hands in her own divine grasp, and whisper to him, holding him as he had held her when she'd breathed her last.   
  
The roar in his ears transformed into a high, purring ring, soothing him, calming him, commanding the lids of his eyes to draw closed, and say good-bye to this meaningless life. It promised peace during the storm, a black refuge that could swallow you up for a time, until you were able to cope, until you were _able_. Logan gave in, mentally cursing the barrier between him and death, then slipped into a dark world without thought, pain, action, or emotion. This, too, was a world without Marie. But, at least _there_, he wasn't aware of it.  
  


* * *

"No," Marie whispered, shaking her head slowly, too drained to open her eyes. She felt a rough hand cup her chin, the feel of hot breath blew against her cheek.  
  
"We're making progress," Magneto whispered in her ear. "I can touch you without consequence."  
  
Rogue moaned, attempting to jerk her chin out of his hands, to no avail. Her only weapon, her only source of getting out alive had just been stripped from her. Now, she truly was helpless and vulnerable. Now, there seemed no way for it to end.  
  
"All I have to do is find out how to transfer your mutation to me."  
  
"No!" Rogue moaned, pulling away from him, tears falling down her cheeks without her knowledge. Then, she resorted to pleading. "Don't, don't, please don't. Just, please don't." More tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving traces in dirt that had collected over time.   
  
She had no freedom. Magneto kept her drugged up on valium most of the time, and only then would he let her take brief walks around the room, examining her to his heart's content. Back into the bindings she would go when the drugs wore off, and there she stayed until slipping into a dreamworld. But, she still felt the pain. Every time she felt even slightly conscious, a burning electric shock jolted through her side. She usually woke up screaming, but her screams got her nowhere.   
  
She was alone, damned to this hell until she died. Hope that the X-Men would come to her rescue had completely vanished as she realized that Magneto's story was true. They would never come for her; she would never see the sun again, and Logan... a painful ache jabbed her in the stomach. She loved Logan. It hadn't been just some crush that others had believed it to be. She had truly loved him, had become a part of him, was being torn in two because she would die without him by her side. Rogue had planned on letting Logan's infatuation with Jean run its course, even though it killed her to watch him gaze at her, his eyes softening whenever she entered the room and narrowing whenever Scott took his place beside her. Jean, she had hoped, would have soon married Scott, and then Logan would come around and see Marie for what she really was. A woman, in love with Logan.  
  
Her hopes died inside of her, as the familiar, and almost numb, feeling of the syringe pierced her now touchable skin, swallowing her mind into a torturous world full of Logan.


	3. An Apparition

Six Months Later   
  
Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Xavier watched reverently as Logan kneeled beside Rogue's grave, pressing his cheek against the cold stone. It hadn't been a full year yet, but nine months has passed from that exact date since they had all watched Marie die. Scott had come up with the idea that they should visit her grave, and plant flowers in the earth. Logan, when told of their plan, had wanted to go alone, but the X-Men had convinced him of otherwise. Well, not really convinced. Given no choice is more like it. Scott had put a lock on all of his cars, and Ororo had threatened to catch him in a hurricane if he left alone.  
  
Birds chirped surreptitiously around Logan, sensing if they were too loud, he'd shred them to pieces. A cold wind blew throughout the cemetery, causing Jean to shiver and Scott to wrap his arms around her.  
  
She'll always be in your memory, Xavier reminded Logan telepathically, feeling the moment was too solemn to be disturbed by verbal words.   
  
Logan growled low in his throat, not turning his head. _I want more than her memory. I want to touch her, to tell her that_- he stopped, grabbing fistfuls of grass in his hands and crushing it.   
  
You can't go on like this. You can't keep - blaming yourself. Logan, it wasn't your fault.  
  
_She couldn't absorb me! _Logan snapped back at him, frowning. _Her powers just stopped. Have you figured out why that happened? Why I couldn't save her?!_  
  
Xavier paused for a long moment, folding his hands sadly in his lap. I've researched it, and I can't find an explanation for it. Maybe she- he stopped short, knowing he almost said the wrong thing. Logan, he resumed, rushing his next words to cover up, Engaging in your feral activities isn't going to bring her back.  
  
Logan finally snapped his head back, glaring hard at the professor. _Maybe she what? _He roared in his mind, not allowing the insinuation to be dropped. _Maybe she wanted to die? Maybe she didn't want me to absorb her? Is that what you were going to say?!_  
  
Xavier lifted his hands in the air helplessly, his dark eyes gazing intently, sympathetically, at Logan.   
  
Snarling, Logan rose from his feet and rushed past the professor, cursing at him in his mind.  
  
Scott, sensing that he missed something, whispered quietly in Jean's ear, "What was that all about?"  
  
Jean shrugged, squeezing his hand. "I think they just had a telepathic fight." Scott nodded in understanding. He and Jean had those frequently, and they, too, usually ended in that similar fashion.

* * *

Rogue opened her eyes wearily, feeling the tension in the room. Magneto had his hands pressed to his forehead, and was muttering at the wall. Narrowing her eyes to focus, Rogue decided she must not be the only one going crazy. Straining her ears to listen to this one man conversation, the words "I can't leave now," registered.   
  
Her heart thudded excitedly in her chest as a different voice answered, "You have no choice. The Brotherhood already thinks you're using this experiment as a front to stay alive. They were angry enough when they found out you sacrificed Mystique. Now, they're calling for a new leader. If you don't get out there and calm them down, a mutiny is at hand."  
  
Magneto sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he glanced at Rogue. Quickly, she closed her eyes as if sleeping and twitched her fingers. "But, in all places, why did it have to be across the country?!" he yelled in a whisper.  
  
"They want you out of your comfort zone," Rogue now recognized the voice as Pyro's, he had deflected to the Brotherhood a few... wait, how much time had passed? "They want to see if you are still the leader you once were."  
  
Erik hissed at St. John, slamming his hand against the wall. "Yes, I'm even better goddammit. Fine. I'll go. She can stay on her own for a few days."  
  
There was a long pause. "So, it's true. You do have Rogue in captivity."  
  
Erik groaned, running his hand over his face, "Yes, I do. The experiments aren't exactly turning out as I'd hoped."  
  
Pyro knocked on the wall tauntingly, "Can I see her?"  
  
Raising his eyebrows slightly, and sending another cautious glance Rogue's way, she watched through slitted eyes as Magneto lifted his fingers to his left and pushed something. A large hole appeared in the wall, allowing Pyro to walk through. Excitement buzzed through her fingers as she realized there had been an exit the whole time, and now Magneto was leaving.   
  
St. John stepped in and gazed at her for a long moment. His eyes shifted toward the dumbwaiter and snorted at the tranqs. "Valium?"  
  
"Among others," Magneto muttered, running his hands through his balding hair.   
  
Pyro eased toward Rogue, settling inches from her face. "Sweet Marie," he whispered in an undertone, brushing a lock of her hair away from her face. It took all of Marie's willpower not to draw herself away. "If only you had come with me."   
  
Rogue felt a slight pressure at the back of her head as his hands groped her backside. Rogue shuddered slightly, still appearing to be in a trance. Hearing the sound of clothes crinkling as he stepped away from her, she allowed herself to breath normally again.   
  
"So," Pyro muttered, pushing Magneto out the door, "We don't have much time."  
  
Erik tugged at his ear, nodding. "Yes, let's go."  
  
As soon as the door closed, Rogue snapped her head up wildly and wriggled around in her chair. The ropes were loose now, since Magneto had just allowed her to walk around the room; one sharp tug and they fell away. Gripping the arms of the chair, Rogue tried to push herself to her feet and wobbled, cursing. A clash of metal hitting the floor rang through the room suddenly, causing Rogue to wince in fear. Relief flooded her as she realized the room must be soundproof, but still.  
  
Glancing down angrily at the object that had almost caused her recaptivity, the small key almost took her breath away. Where had that come from? Then she remembered how Pyro had pressed close to her, assuming he was physically assaulting her, but had only slipped the key into her shirt. Why? Rogue didn't care now, only stooped over and picked it up in her hands.  
  
Pressing the walls with her fingers in the spot she had just seen Magneto positioned, Rogue desperately tried to find the small cove he had pushed in order for the door to open. Crying out in frustration at her failure, Rogue kicked the wall, and leaned her head against it. She was becoming exhausted too soon. Suddenly, the door gave way to a bright aluminum covered hallway. Sending up a grateful thanks, Rogue ran through the corridors, stopping at intervals to rest and breathe.  
  
The feeling of liberation was forming at the back of her mind, but now, fear was dominant. She had to get out alive.

* * *

Two Months Later/ One Year & One Month Since Rogue's Captivity  
  
Logan raised his eyebrows slightly at the ruffian, coolly puffing on his cigar. "Get the fuck away from me," he uttered in a careless tone, leaning back on the bar stool.   
  
The man before him was huge, in moderate standards. Large, oversized muscles bulged from his t-shirt, and blue veins popped from his neck and arms. "Get the fuck away from my woman," he replied hotly, sweat forming above his brow.   
  
Snorting, Logan gestured at the female standing inches from him, her hand hidden between his thighs. "What makes you think she won't come chasing after me?" The guy's eyes bulged in hatred; this was exactly with Logan wanted. Cracking his knuckles in anticipation, Logan stared at him, challenging him.  
  
Fortunately, the guy took a great swing at Logan's head, missing as the man-beast ducked skillfully under, pulling away from the woman's hands. Standing on both feet now, Logan stepped forward and sent his fist straight toward the faltering man's nose. He felt the cartilage shatter under his touch, and a slow smile creeped across his face. "Want to keep going?" He asked, dodging his inferior opponent as the man blindly swung his overtoned arms over Logan's head again.   
  
In answer, Logan sunk his adamantine fists through his chest, sending the guy flying into the opposite wall.  
  
"Hey!" the bartender cried, slamming his hands against the counter. "Stop it, or I'll call the police!"  
  
Rolling his eyes carelessly, Logan stretched his hands, dissatisfied with the fight. It had ended too easily. Next time, he'd have to find someone more worthy. Cracking his neck on one side, he grabbed his leather jacket from the counter and shrugged it on his shoulders, ignoring the 'my hero' look the whore at the bar gave him. Gathering up the money he'd won that night, Logan began his striding exit, but stopped at the door. In the hallway, there was a mirror, and for an instant he had glanced in it, and what he saw almost made his heart stop.  
  
Marie was sitting in a dark corner of the bar, her dark eyes gazing intently on him. At least.. it looked like Marie, except.. it actually looked as if she had risen from the dead. Not wanting the apparition to end, for this was as close as he'd come to seeing her, Logan refused to tear his eyes away from the glass, until his curiosity got the best of him. Heart thundering loudly in his heart, the blood rushing through his veins, Logan turned away from the mirror, focusing his eyes on the spot where she would be. And, there she was. Marie never blinked. Her dark brown hair flowed out across her shoulders, and her two white streaks were pulled back behind her ears. Chocolate brown eyes searched in his own eyes, and it seemed as if she were seeing everything he'd done this past year. Suddenly, the corners of her mouth drew up slightly in a smile, and her hand lifted itself from the table, in a sort of half-wave.  
  
Logan almost passed out from shock. Without a word, he took a step toward her, relief, love, and fear striking him all at once. Now, he didn't care if she was an apparition. He wanted to hold her. His view was rudely blocked by the guy from the fight, the blood drying on his nose. "Where do you think you're going, pal?"  
  
"Get the fuck out of my way, bub," Logan growled, throwing him off to the side again, unsheathing his claws as the booth in the corner was just that; a booth in the corner, and no Marie. Hands trembling non-stop, Logan's claws retreated back into his skin, and he turned, charging out in the street, a roar bursting from his lips.

* * *

Professor Xavier closed his eyes, frowning slightly as Logan's fierce anger mentally slapped him in the face. Since his unexpected arrival just two days ago, Xavier had been keeping an eye on him using cerebro. Now, Logan seemed to be extremely disgruntled and shaken, which was a deep contrast to his usually macho satisfied feeling as he left bars. But, Xavier knew better than to focus too much on him. Suddenly, another mutant presence flew past Logan's, and Xavier caught his breath for a second. Centering in on the mutantous presence, he probed the thoughts of that person, sweat breaking out on his forehead at the tumbled emotions lashing out at him. Eyes shooting open, chest heaving heavily, Xavier lifted Cerebro from his head, the tingling sensation still lingering. That mutant... that was Rogue. 


	4. Paralyzed

Muttering curses under his breath, Scott pretended to ignore Logan speeding in the garage on the stolen motorcycle.   
  
"Scott!" Logan shouted, throwing the helmet across the room. Raising his head in surprise, Scott frowned, wiping his greasy hands on a towel.   
  
"What?" he muttered, carefully inspecting his baby for any evidence of misuse.   
  
"Do I look like I'm going crazy?"  
  
"What?!" His eyes shot up to Logan's, noticing his hazel eyes were bloodshot, and his face pale. Woa. He had never seen the Wolverine so shaken.   
  
Logan ran his trembling hands through his hair and growled at him, throwing his leg over the motorcycle. "Never mind," he grunted, leaping off the bike and marching from the door.  
  
Shuddering, Scott frowned and riveted his attention the bike, worrying.

* * *

Rogue sighed, running her gloved hands through her long hair. Magneto hadn't been lying. Judging by Logan's face, everyone thought she was dead. Seeing Logan had been a shock to her system. Sure, she had actually gone out looking for X-Men, gradually making her way back to Westchester since she escaped from that hell, but she hadn't expected to see him so suddenly, engaging himself in a random brawl.   
  
_'So this is what he's been doing all the time I've been dead,' _she thought bitterly, tugging anxiously on her gloves. She could touch now, she knew that. But, wearing gloves had become a habit, and the way she had been given the ablility to suppress her powers gave her no pleasure. _'He's been going to bars, drinking, flirting with women, and then fighting men too weak to stand up'. _Her eyes flashed in jealousy as she remembered seeing him waltz into the place, his eyes instantly fixing themselves on a busty brunette smoking a cigarette by the bar. She knew part of it was his nature, but she also didn't expect him to take the closest bimbo he found.   
  
But, as he'd been leaving, Rogue had almost kicked herself for hanging back and not talking to him, and had immediately resolved to follow him to wherever he was going, when he'd just turned around and stared her straight in the eyes. Her heart had just about stopped moving when he did that, when his deep hazel eyes gazed into hers, and the color drained from his face. The love she'd felt for him had been rekindled, the fire blazing in her heart as she just sat there, looking into his wonderful face. Then, he'd tried to come to her, and she'd become afraid. Why, she didn't know. But, when that fighter had come looking for Logan and stepped in his way, she'd taken it as an opportune moment to run. Yes, it was cowardly, but she'd panicked.   
  
Tightening her hands on the wheel, Rogue guided the car along the secluded road that led to Xavier's Scool for the Gifted. As she neared the familiar mansion, her body began to tremble, and she ended up stopping the car halfway up the driveway. Tears sprang to her eyes unwillingly, as she choked back a sob. One year and one month. The date on the newspaper had sent her into a paralysis. Leaning her head against the dashboard, Rogue let herself cry for a moment, wiping the tears away as they fell. She had no idea how they would react, how she would react. The time weighed on her shoulders like a heavy burden. So much must have changed. She must have changed. Logan.. he had definitely seemed to change.   
  
A loud slam reached her ears, making her jump in her seat. Peering into the darkness, she noticed by the light of a garage, Logan striding toward the mansion, his claws unsheathed.   
  
Struck with a need to see him, Marie hurriedly opened the car door and slammed it shut behind her. Her breath came in short as Logan stopped at the sound, slowly turning on his heel. Their eyes met across the terrace, and somehow Marie found the willpower to keep her legs moving toward him.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was the smell. _Her _smell. Oh god, how could this be happening? Logan swallowed a dry lump forming in his throat, paralyzed. She was walking toward him, tears slipping down her cheeks. Oh, god. She looked so.. haunted, so much like a ghost. If he was going crazy, he wouldn't mind that much if he could have her scent all the time. After all, hadn't he been crazy this past year anyway? Might as well be crazy and happy.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Marie stopped two feet short of him, her legs feeling as if they would give way any moment. "Logan," she croaked, feeling the world tilt dangerously. No, she'd been wrong. She couldn't handle this. Lifting her hands to her head, Rogue tried to refocus, but Logan's image blurred in her eyes, becoming nothing more than a meshing of dark shadows.

* * *

"Oh my god!" Ororo screamed, as Logan charged into the house, Marie draped over his shoulders. For a moment, Ororo was fully convinced that Logan had finally gone insane, that he'd gone back to the cemetery and dug her up, planning to hide her in his room until he died. She stood speechless, stepping backward from him, her heart racing. "Jean!" She cried, turning around to run, "Professor!"   
  
Logan sniffed the air as she fled from him, searching for anyone else who might be in his way. No one. Now, on to more important things. For one, he wasn't completely insane. Ororo must have seen Marie laid on his shoulder, or else she wouldn't have run from him. Clutching Marie's warm -oh my god, she was warm!- hand in his own, he raced up the stairs of the mansion, skipping steps easily, and raced down the hall to his room. Kicking the door open with his foot, he walked to the bed and gently slid Marie's unconcious body onto his bed.  
  
Gulping hard, Logan kneeled on the bed and pressed his shaking fingers to her neck. Oh, god. She had a pulse! His eyes roamed over her body, his insides dancing in glee and horror at the sight of her chest moving rhymically. There was no doubt about it: she was alive. But, he had seen her die! He'd seen her breathe her last and fall cold in his arms! Goddammit, he'd seen her being lowered into the ground! This couldn't be real!  
  
Logan pressed his fingers to her skin, tentatively, testing for her mutation. Nothing. Then again, she didn't have her mutation when she died either. Oh, god.. Logan backed away from her as she came to, her eyes fluttering open, arms outstretched, then lowering.  
  
She looked up at him with wide eyes, a small hint of smile played out about her face. "Logan," she whispered, easing off of the bed, coming closer to him. "Logan, I missed you so much." Tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking the carpet beneath them.   
  
Logan stared at her, trying to keep from passing out. "Marie," he croaked, speaking for the first time. Oh, god.. Oh, god. Oh, god. "How? What -?" he stopped, raising his hands to his head, and backed away into a corner, burying his head into his hands, crouching down to the ground. This was too much, too much. He'd watched her die, thrown roses on her coffin as she was lowered into the earth, spent more than a year ruining his life, indulging in every painful or cheap thrill that allowed him to numb the pain for a while. And now she was alive, breathing, beautiful face alight with color and life. Oh, god! He wanted Marie.. but this was so.. so.. confusing.  
  
Footsteps thundered along the hall, and a terrified Jean, a greasy Scott, and a horror stricken Ororo burst into the room, followed by Xavier, solemnly wheeling himself in. All of them stopped midstep, their mouths falling at the sight of Marie breathing, standing, hovering over Logan. Ororo had told them what she'd seen, and they'd been prepared for the sight of a dead corpse on the bed. Not.. Not..  
  
"Oh, God!" Jean screamed, backing away.  
  
"Marie?!" Scott asked, stepping forward, wondering what he had just walked into.   
  
Xavier sighed deeply, noting Marie's exhausted features gaze at all of them wide-eyed, her gloved hands wringing together. "I-I-" she stuttered, her voice making them all flinch in surprise and wonder. "I wasn't dead," she murmured, her chin trembling. "Magneto took me," she whispered, the exhaustion sweeping over her. All those faces were horrified of her. None of them seemed happy to see her again. Glancing down at Logan, still crouched in the corner, his bloodshot eyes now riveted to her face, Rogue decided she had gone about this the wrong way. She should've been more subtle.. it was stupid to just appear like she did. They must think they're going insane... "Mystique, she-. she-" she muttered, attempting to explain again, and failing. Instead, her feet slipped out of under her, and only Logan was fast enough to catch her in his arms. 


	5. Revenge

**Title: **Losing Everything

**Author: **Estonia Lockhart, or more commonly known as Gwynje

**Rating:**PG-13 for mild language

**Continuity: **I guess it's post X1. Maybe an in-between.

**Summary:** Logan takes matters into his own hands.

**A/N: **Grrr, I'm angry at right now. They won't let me indent, and they're just being mean. Oh well. Thanks for the reviews to all!

**Feedback:** Please!

* * *

"So.." Logan trailed off, brushing Marie's hair out of her face, enjoying the feel of her soft, warm skin against his finger. Glancing up in helplessness at Xavier, they all waited for his judgement.

Xavier sighed, age clearly showing in his face through the severely increased frown lines burrowing deep into his forehead. "It is Rogue, not another mutant posing as her." Exclamations rose in the room, as Scott half rose in his seat, Jean leaned heavily against the wall, and Ororo sat on Xavier's desk with a loud thunk. Logan's eyes brimmed with tears, but he fought them back, not breaking the movements of his finger on her face.  
  
"Just today, I noticed her presence using cerebro, when she was following you." Logan glared at Xavier, and reminded himself to tell the telepath to mind his own business and stop tracing him with his damn machine. "I have men out there in the cemetery, digging up the grave."  
  
"That's not right," Jean broke in, her hands shaking, eyeing the sleeping Rogue warily.  
  
"What else do you suggest we do?" Xavier asked, his voice rising. "Digging up the body is the only way we'll know for sure whether or not she-" he gulped, his eyes shifting over to her.  
  
"Rose from the dead," Logan finished, shivering slightly as he spoke the words.  
  
A soft, low moan came from Marie's lips, as she twitched in her sleep. Suddenly, sweat broke out on her forehead, and she writhed under Logan's hand, screaming. "No, No!" Rising sharply from the bed, Rogue gazed at them, wide-eyed, panting heavily. Eyebrows knitting together in confusion, she tore off her gloves and raised the sleeve of her uniform. The needle punctures were still there. It hadn't been a dream. Everything was real.. so horribly real.  
  
Logan spotted the punctures and growled low in his throat, grabbing her arm in his hand. "Who the hell did that do you?"  
  
Closing her eyes momentarily, Rogue slowly drew her arm out of his grasp. "Magneto," she whispered, rubbing the area numbly, gazing around at the rest of the X-Men.  
  
Xavier leaned forward in his wheelchair, gazing at her with a focused intensity. "Rogue," he whispered gently, "tell us what happened to you."  
  
Marie leaned back against the bed, propping herself up into a sitting position. "I didn't die," she spat, forcing the words out of her mouth. "Magneto- he made Mystique take my shape, then told Sabretooth to kill her, so you would think it was me."  
  
Logan's claws shot out with a terrifying snikt, and he thrashed them through the air in fustration. "Dammit!" he screamed. He should have been able to tell the difference. He should have known it wasn't Marie. How could he have mixed up one of his greatest and most despised enemies with the person he'd come to love more than anyone else in the world?  
  
Xavier shot him an annoyed glance, "Logan, calm down. Let her finish." Reverting his gaze back to Marie, he beckoned her on. "What's the next thing you remember?" She shook her head silently. How could she go on when Logan had his back turned to her, his claws slashing through the air, and his guilt obvious in the air. He shouldn't feel guilty; it wasn't his fault. None of it was his fault. Instead of continuing, she whispered, "Logan."  
  
Slowly, he turned around and faced her, his eyebrows drawn together tightly, his eyes red and glistening as his claws gradually retreating back into his knuckles. Extending her hand out towards him, Marie nodded encouragingly. "Come here."  
  
Logan rushed to her side, hot tears now slipping down his tightly drawn face; Marie's heart broke. Their hands combined tightly, both of them squeezing with all of their might. "Don't blame yourself," Marie murmured to him, lifting her other hand to wipe away his tears.  
  
"I should have known," he replied stubbornly, turning his face away, as if feeling unworthy of her forgiveness. "You've suffered all this time because I-"  
  
Rogue cut him off sharply. "And you've suffered too. I can see it." She drew his chin toward her, so she could gaze into his eyes, give visual proof that she knew. The pain was everywhere in his face. She could never remember him looking so much like hard stone, the sharp, rough edges still lingering. He looked as he once had in the cages, except his sorrow was more palpable and solid.  
  
"Logan, I didn't die." Marie could feel her chin trembling now as he gazed back into her eyes, trying to keep his own emotion under control. Could he have really suffered that much- for her? "The thought of you kept me alive there." Then, pressing her face against his, she whispered firmly in his ear, fearing he wouldn't believe her, "The thought of you kept me alive. You saved me, Logan."

Reverent silence filled the room as the team of X-Men looked on, feeling their own faces tremble with emotion. The connection stringing those two together was so tangible, so enigmatic that it couldn't be mistaken for anything else. They were each other's foundation, and without each other, they would crumble. After all, hadn't they witnessed Logan shattering right before their eyes, when he thought Marie had been lost to him forever? With each other, life made sense for them. Somehow, they felt it was something they could never wholly understand with their minds, but feel with their hearts. And, that was basically all they needed to understand the bond between the girl with white streaks and the man with long, vicious claws: their hearts.  
  
In her deep brown eyes, Logan found what he'd been searching for and needed all along; something he'd always had, but hadn't recognized: her forgiveness and love. There was no mistaking it. She didn't blame him at all; but, that was because Marie was a good person, and if she'd gone through unimaginable grief because he hadn't recognized that it wasn't really her lying in that coffin, there was no way she would tell him. He still blamed himself; he could have stopped it. But, he had Marie in front of him now, touching his face, near him, breathing. That was all he needed.  
  
Still holding on firmly to his hand, Marie relaxed and glanced at the professor, ready to tell him her story. All of the X-Men became alert again, recovering their sharper senses of the task at hand. "Magneto brought me to an underground facility, and he was determined to still, somehow, use my mutation...."

* * *

Logan crushed the cigar in his mouth, aimlessly slicing the material of the couch with one of his claws. Marie was upstairs sleeping; and he would be up there too, if Jean hadn't convinced him to leave so she could finish diagnosing her. They had tried to bring Marie into the medlab, but she'd screamed as soon as she saw the white room and needles lying on the table. It had been as if she didn't even remember where she was or who she had been with; she'd practically scratched Jean's flesh off her face while trying to get out, and it had even taken Logan a few minutes to calm her down.  
  
He'd murder Magneto for this. There was no way that bastard was going to stay alive after doing that to her.  
  
Marie, he knew, had told her story in the most matter of fact way possible, not adding any of the harsh extremeities she had gone through; he knew she didn't want him to worry. But, her resigned look and pained expression made it obvious that there was more to the story than she was telling.  
  
A burning need for revenge was sparked within him, scathing his insides with the poisonous want of seeing Magneto, broken and dying, paying for what Marie was going through now. Before, Magneto had only been a group enemy; someone everyone disliked. But this time, he had struck too close to home. He had taken the only person Logan needed, and tortured her, sending her back into the world screaming and thrashing for life.  
  
_He would pay._  
  
The tip of his cigar was smoldered in the ashtray, and left there unattended when Jean arrived to tell him it was all right for him to visit Rogue again. When a search was made, they found one of Scott's motorcycles gone, and a strong scent of burnt rubber drifting up from the driveway. The team was in hysterics, and they all crowded into Xavier's office once again, trying to find out where he had gone.  
  
But what they didn't know, was that while Xavier was wheeling himself quietly toward cerebro, Marie woke up, finding a small note folded into her hands.  
  
_I'll be back soon.  
-Logan. _


	6. On His Way

Logan sped through the streets on his motorcycle, the only logic thoughts whipping through his mind purely animal and instinct.  
  
_He Hurt Marie. He Has To Die._  
  
Those two thoughts revolved around in his head over and over again. There was no way he could ever turn back to the mansion now unless he had Magneto's murder to credit himself. Marie was still back there, safe and alive thank goodness, but she was hurting in a way no person should. She had been used and tortured and stripped of everything she had held close to her or treasured.  
  
Logan narrowed his eyes as he shifted lanes, his grip on the handlebars becoming tighter and more insistent as the needle on the speedometer crawled higher over eighty. A truck horn blared behind him as the driver quickly jammed his foot on the brakes, trying to avoid the collision. The warning fell on deaf ears and Logan only speeded up, his mind intent on revenge and his heart breaking at the sight of the young girl back at the mansion with white streaks, which were also the mark of Magneto at an earlier time, and a terrified expression.  
  
He knew what nightmares could do to you at night. Hell, he had them almost every single night, sending him screaming from his bed, claws slashing away at the sheets and pillows as he fell hard onto the floor. Marie didn't deserve to have what he hid from her, even though she knew, not only by her times absorbing him, but also by the life he led.  
  
_She _shouldn't have to wake up screaming for life, thrashing wildly in the blankets expecting to see her worst fears alive in front of her. She would always see Magneto in the depths of her dreams and she would never be able to escape from him, even though now she was hundreds of miles out of his reach.  
  
Rogue was such an amazing woman, with an entire future to look forward to without a shadow constantly daunting the glow on her face. Logan had been thrown into an unsure life with an unknown past; he spent almost all of his time glancing over his shoulders, never letting his guard down or letting anyone close to him. That life he'd live had been so lonely, so lost and despairing he'd felt like he'd been falling through a black hole and spiraling down into hard gravel. Marie was too good to spiral down that hole when she had so many people there to car for her. Maybe... maybe if Magneto was gone, it would ease (he knew only too well that his mark on her would never disappear; the scars would always be there, but at least they would heal) the painful memories.  
  
Magneto would always be there, always a constant threat ready to swoop down and finish the job he'd started. She'd only escaped last time by chance. If Magneto was dead, she would be safe, and have at least one less fear to tangle with.  
  
If Magneto was dead, she would be safe.  
  
Logan's adamantium fists closed in on the grip even harder until he realized the metal was breaking beneath his fingertips. Even as he eased his grasp on the bars, the burning rage and loathing boiling inside of him steeped until he felt it fill his entire being.  
  
_He had promised to protect her._  
  
He had intended for Marie to be the only thing in his life that would remained untainted and protected from the dangers of the world Logan himself knew so well. Others in his life - Jean, the team, everyone - he had almost expected to part with, had prepared himself for the time when that break would come. But, Marie... no. Marie would have come with him, and would have always had him to protect her and stand by her side, even if he was miles away. Marie was the only one he couldn't part from permanently. He'd always come back for her. Always.  
  
And for the last year and month, he had actually lost her. Had seen her die with his own eyes, and watched her being buried underneath the turf. After that, he had left the mansion, thinking that he could never bring himself to see the place ever again. But, as he drank away his sorrow, and fought away his anger, he actually had moments when he would forget about her death and block it out, speeding back on his bike to see her, kicking himself in the ass for being away for so long.  
  
The rides home in that state of mind scared the hell out of him later. He would always imagine the way she would smile when he walked through the door, and the feel of her arms around his neck as they greeted each other. The ache in the pit of his belly pulled so hard until he felt something would snap; at those moments, he realized how much he truly missed her over all that time. The horrible part was, he used to foolishly ease that pain by telling himself when he reached the mansion, he would see her again. That when he reached the mansion, he could hold her again and make sure she was all right.  
  
But, then harsh reality would smack him in the face with an iron fist whenever he made it back to the mansion and remembered she wasn't there and why. Her room had been occupied by new students, and he had spent his day away from the school, loathing the fact that he had forgotten, bawling in the privacy of the woods whenever her almost completely faded scent made its way to his nose.  
  
Not having Marie had killed him, and he had wanted to die, cursing his healing ability every time he faced the gates of death, only to be thrust back into the cold, lonely world full of going ons he no longer felt apart of. Literally, life had lost all meaning for him. But, she was back now - alive. And, turns out all this time, she had been locked away in some cage underground being experimented on like a lab rat in one of Magneto's sick experiments.  
  
_He would die to keep her safe._  
  
He had died once, to keep her alive. And if he had to, had to risk his life again even while knowing for a hard fact that he wouldn't wake up in the end, he'd do it without a question. Because Marie was worth it. She was worth every damn thing he had to offer her.  
  
_She was all he had to live for._

Logan turned sharply to the right, entering onto the exitway leading into the heart of California. -

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x  
  
Marie paced the room, wringing her hands in desperation. Charles wasn't there yet, but the team was, sitting solemnly in chairs circling the desk, and wondering quietly to themselves why. They all could have gone and kicked major Magneto-butt together. All of them saw how much Rogue had been affected by him and his needles. She spent all of her time outside, yet liked to hide beneath the shadows of the trees. Socially, she tended to avoid most people, yet at the same time craved conversation. There was always a shadow lurking on her face, and in the middle of a discussion she would always fall silent, a frown appearing on her forehead, and retreat into herself, falling back on painful memories.  
  
Not only that, but Jean knew she was addicted. The woman couldn't help it; she had practically lived off of valium daily, and Magneto had given her just a few ounces under the maximum to keep her alive. Her withdrawal symptoms were terrible, and she suffered from nightly insomnia that made dark, heavy circles appear under her already haunted eyes. Her appetite had diminished almost to nothing, and it took hours for anyone to coax her into having something solid like a piece of bread or even fruit to eat. It wasn't that she didn't want to eat - she couldn't, and hadn't eaten on a normal diet in more than a year. Time wasn't hurrying to make her adapt or even feel secure in her surroundings yet.  
  
And, now that Logan was gone, everything was far worse. She went from hardly eating to never eating, and it showed on her; there was almost nothing to her except for a barely there skeleton. She also slept even less - because of the nightmares, and because she was too preoccupied with waiting and worrying to remember what her basic needs were.  
  
The worst about the whole entire situation for her, was the fact that she knew exactly where Logan would have gone. After all, she had escaped from an underground facility in Nevada, and Pyro had spoken of going further west. The only way you could be more west was to be in California. She'd even gone through some of Xavier's records of facilities in California they had either heard rumors about, or located themselves. Only two had been found that hadn't been destroyed by the X-Men, and she knew with a gut feeling that it would be closer south than north.  
  
Charles was in cerebro now, trying again to pinpoint Logan's location. For some reason, over the past few days, he hadn't been able to locate the man at all, finding no type of signal pointing to him. Rogue had just gone about wild with fear, hoping that it didn't mean the worst.  
  
The doors to the office swung open with an ominous creak, and everyone jumped up and rushed over to him as Charles wheeled himself through the doorway. He winced for a moment, finding himself attacked with thoughts and questions from every member of the team who wanted their minds read, so the subject wouldn't be brought up right in front of Rogue.  
  
"He's alive," he said with some relief, and everyone couldn't help but breath out shaky laughs and relax a bit. His conclusive death had seemed more and more probable as the time had ticked away and still no sign of him had shown up. "However, he has a mind block put up against me, so that I don't find him."  
  
The frown on the professor's face deepened as he wheeled himself behind his desk, contemplating quietly to himself for a moment before continuing. "He let it slip just for a moment today, but he must have felt me probing his thoughts for his location and rewalled his mind." He stopped the word, amazing' from coming out of his mouth. Very few people had as strong a will as Logan to wall him out of their thoughts for such a long period of time.  
  
The questions still lingered on their faces, and Xavier knew what it was they wanted to know. "No," he said quietly, his expression looking a bit more worn than usual, "I didn't have enough time to locate him."  
  
Everyone's shoulders slumped heavily, and Scott balled his hands into fists. "There has to be some way to find him! He can't have just disappeared without leaving some type of trail, cerebro or no." The team nodded in agreement, but suddenly stopped at the extremely somber expression on Xavier's face. His eyes seemed to stare blankly ahead into nothing, and a tear dripped down the side of his cheek.  
  
"Professor?" Ororo asked, stepping closer to him and touching him lightly on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"  
  
Charles swallowed, shuddering as he reentered his present world. "It's Rogue," he said quietly, and even as he said the words, the team looked around them, searching for her. "She's gone."


	7. The Hunt

**Title:** Losing Everything

**Author:** Estonia Lockhart, or more commonly known as Gwynje

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing. Except Logan ::snickers:: . Okay, only a piece of him. Fine, fine, fine! I own nothing but my computer. (lies, lies, lies). So don't sue me. Thanksomuch.

**A/N:** I know this has taken forever, and I am so sorry! Thanks for your patience. For all those still interested, this is for you.

**Feedback:** Bring it on.

* * *

"Oh God." The knuckles of Jean's fingers drained of color as her hands balled into fists, and her eyes shut tightly. "Scott, she can't be out there."

Cyclops brought his hands up to her shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly. "Don't worry," he said softly, trying to calm her. "We'll find her soon. We'll find both of them."

The doctor's light brown eyes shot open. "No," she said shakily, grabbing onto Scott's hands gratefully. "It's more than that." Turning to face him, Jean gave him a meaningful look before continuing. "Scott, Rogue's sick."

"We all know that, Jean, but it's nothing to worry-"

"No!" Her red hair shook emphatically as her eyes shut again, straining to calm herself. "It's more than that."

Scott gazed at her inquisitively, sensing the alarmed fear in her voice. "What do you mean, Jean?"

"Magneto had Rogue on valium most of the time, so that he could experiment on her without her interference, and to keep her body reactions normal. Inevitably, she ended up addicted to it - her body needed it to function. For a while I had her on Phenobarbital, which is an anti-convulsant preventing her from experiencing seizures, as well as other symptoms of her withdrawal."

The memory of Rogue's hollow expression, and the haunted shadows that played across her face came back to his mind. "What kind of other symptoms are there?" Even as he said the words, he knew it would only get worse.

"Scott...," Jean paused, running her fingers perplexedly through her hair. "Anyone who comes off of that many dosages of narcotics as she took in, would without a doubt have hallucinations, seizures, anxiety attacks, and hot flashes that could cause her to break into a cold sweat." The doctor swallowed, turning her back on him again and glanced out the window.

"Why didn't you say anything before this?" The seriousness and danger of the situation struck him instantly.

"Because I didn't want anyone to treat her differently. She was having such a hard time readjusting already - especially since Logan disappeared..." she trailed off, giving her husband a pleading look.

"The important thing is, if we don't find her soon, she could die within a few days. She hasn't eaten - hasn't slept - and with hallucinations, she could jump right off of a bridge."

The jaw muscles in Scott's jaw clenched together tightly as he nodded. "I'll get the car and look for her on the roads. It's only been a couple of hours - she couldn't have gone far."

* * *

Rogue panted heavily, taking only a moment to rest and catch her breath. Already, she had lost track of time, knowing only that the sun had set just minutes before, and darkness was spreading rapidly over the city. Even though the sun was gone, it still left a burning heat that caused a ray of moisture to collect over her eyebrows. Her hand lifted to wipe away the sweat, but she stopped, steadying herself when the world began to tilt. 

"Oh god," she murmured to herself, clutching her head in agony. Whimpers filled the air, and it was a shock to her system when she realized they were coming from her own mouth. "Oh, god." Panic seized her, and in a mad spur of desperation, she found herself charging into the open street, her arms flailing in the air.

"Help me!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, jumping back as a Rolls Royce almost ran over her toes. "Please help!" Cars whizzed past her, a few pausing to hiss curses and reprimands as they drove past. Tears fell from her eyes, but she blinked them away, trying to focus on the headlights in front of her.

One car was coming straight toward her at top speed, its wheels squealed through the air and its headlights blinded her. She tried to shield her eyes, but as she did a bloodcurdling scream rose from her throat.

It was going to hit her.

The stink of burnt rubber filled the air as the car screeched to a halt, merely inches in front of her. The driver, coated with bright light from the headlights, stuck a head out the window. "Get in!"

Without a second's hesitation, Rogue flew to the passenger door and yanked it open, sliding inside. She hardly had time to buckle her seatbelt before the car picked up speed again, throwing her back against the seat.

"You're going too fast!" she cried out, her voice high.

The driver turned to look at her, a frown deepening above their eyebrows. "I'm only going forty, lady. If you have a problem with that, then you can get yourself out."

Rogue shut her eyes, trying to tune out the sound of screeching tires against the pavement. "Th - thank you for picking me up."

The driver sent her a suspicious glance. "You a hitch-hiker, right?"

She nodded.

"Where you headed?"

Finally, she opened her eyes, a sense of purpose and searching filling her. She was going to find Logan. No matter what, she would find him and keep him safe from the likes of Magneto. It scared the hell out of her, knowing she'd probably have to face her enemy again. But her fear was minimized by her concern for Logan. The adamantium-clad man was no match for a mutant who could control metal. She could save him. She could.

"California," she answered quietly, her eyes focusing on the road, willing it to lead her. "Or as far as you can get me."

The driver chuckled. "Well, you're in luck, lady. I'm on my way to Nevada. That's more than half the distance."

* * *

Pyro ducked low to the ground, his eyes searching out into the darkness. So far, there wasn't a sound, but an alarm didn't go off for no particular reason. And it was way too coincidental that barely seconds after the alert sounded, the lights would go off. 

"This is stupid," he hissed, peaking around a corner. "It's probably just a squirrel or something like that."

"Shut up." Toad didn't turn to look at him, but his face was drawn into a fixture of stern command. If he spoke again, Pyro knew he'd pay for it. Instead, he just made a face and stared into nothing. "We have to be cautious," the human amphibian continued with a hiss, "This base hasn't been used for years, but it's not completely secure. Anyone could find it if they looked hard enough."

St. John bit back a sour remark, clicking his lighter open and closed.

"Stop that now!" Toad spit at him, coating the lighter in his mucous so it would no longer open. St. John opened his mouth to protest, but he hushed immediately. "Go that way," he gestured down the left side of the hall, where very few emergency lights lit the pathway. "If you see anyone, burn them."

He was still unused to the cold-blooded command of 'kill them', and always had trouble following it through. Now he only hoped it really had been a squirrel. With a long swallow, he nodded to him, and slinked around the hallway, crouching low to the ground as he proceeded down the hallway.

"This is stupid," he muttered again, once out of his overseer's earshot. Instead of creeping around their _own_ base, trying to find out whether or not there was an intruder, they should be running out to meet their enemy head-on, ready to defend their territory. If, in fact, there were FOH agents sneaking through their facility, Pyro would be more than happy to give them what they deserved.

Then he grimaced in disgust, trying to pry Toad's rapidly drying mucous off the lighter with his fingernails. If it didn't come off, he promised to burn off that frog's tongue; it might even make the bad breath go away.

"Grrrrr," he swore under his breath, scraping off barely enough to slip his finger through. He stopped in the hallway, and focused intently on freeing his lighter. He'd definitely kill that toad if it stuck permanently.

There was no way he could have noticed the silent padding of footsteps, even if he had been on the alert. What he did notice, however, was the sound of claws ripping through flesh.

::::sing::::

"Where the hell is he?!"

Pyro's eyes widened as he was grabbed from behind, blood trickling down his cheek. He tried to lift his hand to the wound, but found his arms pinned behind his back by one strong, adamantium hand. His heart pounded furiously as he remembered that voice; it belonged to a man who had once been shot in the head, only to stand moments later just as growly as ever.

"Wolverine," he breathed, at once regretting the air he had used to say it. Claws glinted in the dim lights, pressing sharply against his neck.

"Where's Magneto?!" Wolverine repeated, his voice much more threatening. Pyro shrieked in pain as the blade pierced his skin again.

"I don't know, man," he replied, gasping for oxygen. Blackness crowded his vision, and he tried to shake his head, forcing his thoughts back in order.

The blade pressed harder. "If you don't tell me, you'll die."

St. John grimaced, trying unsuccessfully to thrown the man's grip off of him. His eyebrows furrowed as realization and immense panic struck him as one, powerful hit. "This is about Rogue, isn't it?"

In answer, he felt himself being tossed to the ground, his skull connecting to the pavement with a sickening crack. Blood poured from his mouth, but unfortunately he was still conscious. Pyro moaned, kicking his legs weakly as he tried to lift his head; it seemed as heavy as the adamantium molded into his attacker's body.

Hazel eyes glared at him, fire burning in them so fiercely in the dimness, Pyro in his confused state wondered if he could manipulate it. "He-" more blood spilled from his mouth, "He's on the bottom floor. That's-" he paused, gasping for air. "That's all I know."

Logan grunted, a small twinge of regret stabbing at him. This - This was just a kid. He'd been one of Rogue's friends only a few months ago, and now he'd probably broken more than a few of his bones. In fact, he had no idea if this kid would live.

Logan's eyes narrowed. Maybe he'd come back to check on him later. But for now- now, he had someone to kill. His nostrils flared, and six inch claws stretched out into the air, supported in their menace by a blood-thirsty growl.

Then Wolverine continued hunting.


	8. Almost

**A/N:** This is painfully short, I know, but this post is letting you all know that yes, I am still alive and working on this story. I apologize five - six - seven million times over for the long time you've had to wait for this. Thanks to you all for the reviews; they've been keeping me going. And to blot out your image of me being an evil, sabre carrying author-demon, I will be posting another chapter extremely soon.... Promise.

* * *

The sound of retching filled the air, contrasting harshly with the dry whispering wind of the Southern California deserts. The rancid stench of acid and blood filled the air, while whisps of dust rolled over the terrain. 

She was close, but it still seemed too far away.

Rogue wiped her mouth, the beads of sweat dripping from her forehead down to her chin, leaving trails of salt in its path. Her throat burned, revolting against the humid, dry air, yet her mind buzzed with activity and thought, the majority of it not being of her own.

"That bastard," she spit, wincing slightly as her chapped lips split open, blood dotting the sandy colored skin.

To her left was the dirt covered Subaru in which she'd so naively accepted a ride. But, she'd been desperate. After she'd been dropped off in Nevada, her legs had almost collapsed from the amount of walking she did, and her thumb had just about fallen off from its numerous juts into the air. No one had wanted to pick her up; then again, very few people are known to willingly take wild-eyed women - who shrieked every time a car slowed down beside her, watching in surreal horror as glistening syringe needles peaked out at her in herds in the backseat - as a passenger.

And during her few moments of lucidity, she had managed to secure a ride with a pervert whose slime was as infinite as the oil on his dark, flaky hair.

Then she'd taken his life.

Somewhere along the road, her powers had come back, slightly dulled (it had taken more than a minute before the man stopped breathing, whereas a few years ago, it had taken less than 15 seconds), but still alive nonetheless. Even now, she wasn't sure whether or not she welcomed its return. At least now, she had a weapon.

Rogue shuddered, fear pounding in her heart as she tried to shut out every horrible memory, every terrifying moment when she faced impossible images - hallucinations. She knew exactly what they were, had been warned by Jean days before her flight about the danger she was in. The only thought that had kept her moving along was this: she had to save Logan.

If she was going to die, which was an inevitable event that seemed to get closer and closer to the present, she at least wanted to see him, if not at least save him. She couldn't leave this world without his eyes, - the image of his face - being burned upon her eyelids as she closed them, sinking into a perpetual darkness. The hopes of seeing him once more before she died was the only thought that kept her feet plodding, her lungs pumping, and her eyes glued forward.

The only benefit of being attacked, if this could even measure close to one, and absorbing the driver, was that she had been able to reclaim some lucidity and energy, adding to her motivation to move on. His memories she forced into the back of her mind, not yet ready to cope with any intrusion of thought other than her own, and he seemed complacent - or scared out of his mind - enough to sit back and be silent.

The joints of her fingers cracked ominously as she flexed them before delving her hand into her back pocket, retrieving the creased map she had managed to  
"take" from a gas station. Once more, she opened it, tracing her fingers along the route she'd been traveling for what seemed like years.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Four miles. Four miles until she reached the facility, and only four miles until she could see Logan.

Excitement built up in her like a rolling waterfall, and she couldn't help but crack a smile - though it hurt - as she refolded the map and stuck it back into her pocket.

She was almost there. Almost with him. Almost.

Almost.

Without a glance back at the limp body hidden indiscreetly behind a cactus, its limbs blended in with the sun-bleached sand, Rogue lifted her feet again, trudging through the sand, ignoring the sensation of burning in the sole of her shoes. The driver door was still ajar, so she only had to slide in, closing it as she gripped the steering wheel tightly with her hand. She relished its tangibility and the strong sense of reality it created around her. Rogue inhaled deeply, letting the oxygen fill her lungs before letting it out slowly.

The smile that was on her lips now could possibly be described as slightly delirious; the corners of her mouth twitched slightly, and the red blood lined the crevices in her lips. But it was a smile, nonetheless, the first real smile she had made in more than a year.

Four miles.

Four miles.


	9. So close

Scott shifted in the pilot's seat of the Blackbird, his fingers itching to grab hold of the control and lift the jet into the air.

But he couldn't; instead, he had to wait for his team members.

"This is a miracle," Ororo shouted, hurrying up the stairs as she fastening the rest of her uniform. She paused, frowning at the realization that not only was Scott sitting by himself in the jet, but he hadn't even brought the engine to life yet. "What's going on?" she asked, having trouble keeping the panic out of her voice. Too long had they been looking and only _now _succeeding in finding their missing members; there couldn't be another obstacle in their way.

Scott's fingers deftly switched the airplane on impatiently, checking the gas meter and data. "Nothing. We just have to wait for the Professor and Jean."

"Oh," Ororo breathed out slowly, relief filling her. "Well, they better hurry up. The sooner we get there, the better."

"I agree," Scott muttered, squinting against the windshield, calculating in his mind exactly how long it would take to fly the jet across the country.

As if hearing the summons, Jean appeared immediately, her eyes scanning the jet before greeting them. "Hey, guys," she said quietly, absentmindedly straightening the ponytail swishing at the back of her head. "All set?"

"Where's the Professor?" Scott asked, jumping up from his seat to give his wife a kiss on the cheek.

"He'll be here in a second."

Ororo settled in the co-pilot's seat, checked the controls, and then leaned back into the leather chair, her fingers drumming loudly on the board. "I just hope it's not too late," she murmured, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears.

"Me too," Jean agreed solemnly, slinking down into a chair.

"Hey," Scott leaned forward, suddenly noticing with curiosity the large medical bag his wife carried tightly in her fists. It was protocol to have First-Aid on the jet at all times, but intuition told him that the bag didn't carry a common bandage and some Tylenol. "What's in there?"

Jean grimaced, as if being reminded of a sore tooth ache. "Medicine," she replied, gripping the handle of the bag tighter, "-for Rogue."

It was obvious the telepath was on edge. Her eyes were constantly roaming around the jet, as if anxious to take off any second. For days, she had felt a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach, twisting her insides with a dark feeling of dread. "Hurry up, Professor," she whispered under her breath, glancing impatiently out of the window of the Blackbird. "Please."

Finally, the Professor had been able to trace Rogue through cerebro, pinpointing her location toward Southern California. She had been moving fast throughout all of the U.S., and only now had she slowed down slightly, relaxing enough to let the professor sort through her mangled thoughts. He had been reluctant, however, to speak to Jean after his moments in Cerebro, knowing it would only be an encounter of urgent questioning. But before long, she had the truth out in the open to face.

Rogue had been, for days, absolutely unintelligible. Whenever the professor had implored into her mind, there'd been nothing but chaos and feverous apparitions. He'd drawn out the first time in absolute shock, mentally slapped in the face with the rage and tumult of her conscious mind. His concession only confirmed the fears of Dr. Jean Grey and, he feared, increased her already mounting guilt.

Logan was still out of contact, his block suspiciously stronger than it had been only a few days ago. It seemed impossible. No one could keep the Professor out that long, but Xavier had one horrible suspicion as to why he couldn't reach him. The thought alarmed him, increasing the need to find the two immediately for both of their safety. He tried reasoning it out, finding alternatives, but nothing fit quite right. The only possibility was that the reason he couldn't reach Logan's mind was because he had given into his bestial nature, and was no longer a rational, lucid human. He was the Wolverine, with very little humanistic traits to even classify himself as human.

Finding Rogue had been the only key to discovering their location. She'd been east, down into the southern deserts of California, and after a second's wonder, the puzzle had finally fallen into place. He'd then gone looking for files, which to his perplexity had suddenly become missing. But of course, they'd been later discovered shoved under Rogue's bed.

Magneto's facility in San Muertos. The remote town itself held a strong foreboding to it. It explained so many occurrences; Magneto's mysterious disappearance two months ago, the sudden urgent rallying of the FOH in Bakersfield, not too far from the town, and most likely the current victim of the antics of the Brotherhood.

And the only conclusion was that Logan was going after Magneto himself.

Xavier's head had begun to throb with the influx of events, the intensity of the situation at head. So, it took him slightly longer to wheel himself up the ramp into the Blackbird, his mouth set in a firm, grim line, yet his eyes trying to reassure the X-Men.

Scott, Jean, and Ororo jumped to attention as soon as he entered, not thinking to disguise their immense relief and anticipation to move. Xavier only managed a small smile at them before allowing Scott to lift him into a seat.

"Are we ready, Professor?" Scott asked, his eyes lighting up eagerly, as if not expecting any other answer except agreement.

Xavier nodded. "Yes," he said, "Let's go."

The engine of the Blackbird roared to life, the vibrations of the jet becoming diminutive compared to Jean's racing heart, Scott's climbing anticipation, Ororo's focused concentration, and Xavier's premonition of dread.

Stealthily he creeped through the facility, keeping his head low and his claws at the ready. His mouth watered, suddenly struck with a surging hunger for blood. He craved it with every taste bud in his mouth.

It had been silent too long, and his wariness had only become intensified as the floor became as silent as an abandoned tomb at midnight. Now he hesitated before passing every corner, scanned his trained eye over every wall looking for surveillance or a hidden niche. Beads of sweat collected over his eyebrows, accentuating the wild glint in his burning hazel eyes.

His nose arched up slowly in the air. A bitter, reminiscent scent flowed through his nostrils, reminding him of blind anger and ferocious rage. The scent itself seemed to reflect its owner, the essence of metal increasingly palpable with every deep sniff he made.

Magneto.

Adrenaline raced through his blood as his upper lip curled into a horrid snarl. His prey wasn't far away now, and he couldn't wait for the moment where he would finally catch it, and sink his claws into the easily pierced flesh and satiate his blood-lusting hunger.

Footsteps vibrated under the pads of the Wolverine's feet. The man paused, sniffed the air once again, and crouched low to the ground. The callused tips of his fingers ran lightly across the metal floor, feeling the vibrations ring through his nerves.

Underneath. The prey was underneath his feet.

A slow, self-satisfied smirk appeared on the Wolverine's face as he stood on his feet again. So close... so close.

Vengeance never seemed more appealing.

His pace quickened as he half-ran through the halls, his eyes on the watch for an exit, for stairs, for anything that could lead him to his destination.

An elevator.

The smirk grew wider as he approached the dated elevator, its metal doors shut tightly. There was a key-hole right on its side, but a swift extension of his claw gave him full access to the transport.

Once inside, Logan's eyes roamed over the buttons, finally finding one titled 'B1'. He could only assume, and hope, that it would take him down to the Basement, where Magneto was currently hiding. A bitter voice in his mind fumed angrily, wondering if he had kept Rogue on the bottom floor, enclosed in a small room where he performed all of his damned experiments on her.

The snarl grew wider and more lethal.

The metal doors closed as he pushed the button, and his mind eased as the elevator began to go down. Anticipation ate at him like a child waiting to find out exactly what his birthday surprise was.

Then the ground shook.

Wolverine growled, his eyes shifting straight up over his head. A new, swampy scent filled his nose, encroaching the elevator with the smell of rancid garbage. Again he crouched low to the ground, his heated gaze never wavering from the ceiling of the elevator. A deep growl instinctively burbled in his throat, readying himself for a battle.

In response, a plate in the ceiling was torn in once swift movement, barely giving Logan enough time to register the long, rough tongue lashing out at him. He recoiled in disgust, crouching low to the ground as the tongue hit the wall, inches above his head.

"You damn X-Men," Toad ranted, reeling the organ back into his mouth, "You never know when to mind your own business."

The Wolverine cracked his knuckles, enraged. "Wrong," he growled, lifting his claws to give his enemy a more sufficient view. "I wasn't sent by the X-men, bub."

Without warning, he lunged his great body up into the air, his arms stretching up toward where Toad crouched on his hind legs. The amphibian leaped back in surprise, his adhesive fingers gluing him to the inner wall of the elevator shaft.

"Cheating bastards," Toad mumbled to himself, crawling higher.

Wolverine roared, prying the ceiling apart with his claws and therefore creating no metal barrier between him and his foe. "I didn't know Magneto took in worthless cowards," he hissed tauntingly, lowering his hand slightly in hopes of an attack.

Toad's red eyes widened in enraged indignance before he let go of the wall, landing all but gracefully inside the elevator car. "You want to say that again, you flea bitten canine?"

Wolverine smirked and raised his eyebrow in an amused expression. Toad cursed under his breath, realizing too late the trap he'd just fallen into. A shrill cry echoed against the walls as he jumped desperately to the other wall, falling to the ground mid-air as a long blade ripped through his arm.

His mouth opened again, unleashing the five foot tongue at his attacker. Wolverine dodged to the side, sniffing in disgust at the rancid scent of garbage. "Where's Magneto?" he shouted before lunging again, his hands opening to encase the toad's throat into his grip.

Toad jumped again, off toward the side and out of range. He was panting now; everywhere he turned he saw claws glinting in the light, and somehow they kept getting bigger...

"Where's Magneto?!" Wolverine repeated, striking out with his right arm, knocking Toad's head backward with his elbow. The amphibian shook his head, dazed.

"Go find him yourself," his retorted hotly, regaining his balance on all fours.

Wolverine snarled. "One. More Time." With the lightning speed of the animal he was believed to be, Logan finally pinned Toad against the wall, one set of claws hovering mere inches from his abdomen, while the other set were pressed tightly against the collarbone. "Tell me where Magneto is."

Toad shrunk back, but realized he had little to no room to move. "Bastards," he uttered contemptuously. "You're all alike." Then he widened his mouth and spit.

Logan snarled, sinking his claws into the flesh without a second's thought. Toad's expression of victory suddenly turned to anguish. He clutched at his stomach, slicing his webbed fingers on the blades as he tried to draw them out, to no avail.

Blood seeped through his clothes, trailing down his oddly bent knees into a pool collecting on the metal ground. Wolverine's ears picked up the sound of a dying heart, until the only sound of beating was his own thundering pulse. With much ease and no regret, the hands fell to his sides, stained and sullied with the blood.

For added satisfaction, his leg swung out at the limp figure, sending the corpse into the wall with the impact.

Luckily, the mucus had only covered his mouth up toward the bottom edge of his nostrils. But despite how lucky he was, the smell stayed strong and disgusting. Wolverine crouched next to Toad and wiped his claws off on a dry patch of the jacket. With reliance on his quickening healing ability, Logan tore through the mucus with his adamantium claws, creating a large gash above his upper lip. But soon the wound healed, and Logan flexed his jaw muscle before turning his attention back toward the task at hand.

What he saw amazed him momentarily. Since he had been so distracted by the fight, he hadn't noticed that the elevator had reached the bottom floor, and he was staring into a long hall of shadows.

Even better, the scent of blood was stronger.


End file.
